The three letters were three several commands. The first was directed to Cserei, telling him to put the prisoners to death at once; the second was to the provost-marshal, Zsigmond Boer, to the effect that if Cserei showed any signs of hesitation he was to be killed together with the gentlemen; the third was to the garrison of the fortress, impressing upon them in case of any hesitation on the part of the provost to make an end of him forthwith along with the others. All three letters, sealed with yellow wax, were handed over to Stephen Nalaczi, who, placing them in his kalpag, pressed his kalpag down upon his head and hastened quickly from the room. He had to pass close to the jester on his way out, and the fool, rushing upon him, exclaimed. “O ho! you have got on my kalpag; off with it, this is yours!” and before Nalaczi had recovered from his surprise he found a cap and bells on his head instead of a kalpag.
The magnate considered this jest highly indecent, and seized the jester by the throat.
“You scoundrel, you, where have you put my kalpag? Speak, or I’ll throttle you.”
“Don’t throttle me, sir,” said the jester apologetically, “for then you would be the biggest fool at the court of the Prince.”
“My kalpag!” cried Nalaczi furiously, “where have you put it?”
“I have swallowed it, sir.”
“You worthless rascal,” roared Nalaczi, throttling the jester, “would you play your pranks with me!”
“Truly, sir, I shall not be able to bring it up again if you press my throat like that.”
“Stop, I mean to search you,” said Nalaczi; and he began to tear up the coat of the jester, whereupon the kalpag came tumbling out from between its folds. “You clumsy charlatan,” laughed Nalaczi, “well, you hid it very well, I must say.” Then he put on his kalpag again, in which were all three letters well sealed with yellow wax, but he now hastened outside as rapidly as possible in case the fool should spirit them away again.
The same night he galloped to Fogaras, though it cost him his horse to get there, summoned Cserei, and giving him the letter addressed to him said:
“You, sir, are to execute this strict command to the very letter.”
The commandant took the letter, broke the seal, and then looked at the magnate in amazement:
“I know not, sir, whether you or I have been made a fool of—but there’s not a scrap of writing in this letter.”
Nalaczi incredulously examined the letter. It was a perfect blank. Hastily he broke open the other two letters. In these also there was nothing but the bare paper.
The fool, while the nobleman was throttling him, had substituted blanks for the letters sent, and sent the sentences the same evening to the Princess, who thereby had discovered all that the Prince and his councillors were doing.
In the morning the Princess went to Apafi with the three sentences in her hand, and reproached him for wanting to murder his ministers.
The worthy Prince was amazed at seeing these orders signed by himself. He knew nothing about it, and embracing his wife, thanked her for watching over him and not allowing him to send forth such orders. As for Nalaczi, the shame of the thing made it impossible for him to show himself at Court, and he could only nourish a grudge against the fool.
This accident greatly upset the worthy Prince, and he immediately rushed to release the captives. First of all, however, they had to sign deeds in which they solemnly engaged not to seek to revenge themselves on their accusers.
Paul Béldi was wounded to the heart, but he regarded this calamity as a just retribution for having been the first to sign the league18 against Denis Banfi; it was a weapon which now recoiled upon himself.
But this private grief was the least of his misfortunes, for while Paul Béldi and Nicholas Bethlen had been sitting in their dungeon the war party had had a free hand, so that when the two gentlemen were released they were astounded to learn from their partisans that only the sanction of the Divan was now necessary for a rupture of the peace.
Béldi perceived that to remain silent any longer would be equivalent to looking on while the State rushed to its destruction. He immediately assembled all those who were of the same opinion as himself—Ladislaus Csaky, John Haller, George Kapy—and consulted with them as to the future of the realm.
Béldi opined throughout that the Prince should be spared, but he was to be compelled to dismiss such councillors as Teleki, Székely, Mikes, and Nalaczi, and form a new council of state. Kapy would have done more than this. “If we want as much as that,” said he, “it would be better to declare ourselves openly; and if we draw the sword, we shall have no need to petition, but can fight, and whoever wins let him profit by it and become Prince.”
“No!” said Béldi, “I have sworn allegiance to the Prince, and though I love my country, and am prepared to fight for it, yet I will never break my oath. My proposition is that we assemble in arms at the Diet which is convened to meet at Nagy-Sink, together with the Szekler train-bands, and if we show our strength the Prince assuredly will not hesitate to change his counsellors, for I know him to be a good man who rather fears than loves them.”
The gentlemen present accepted Béldi’s proposition.
“Then here I will leave your Excellencies,” said Kapy, stiffly buttoning his mente.19 “I am not afraid of war, for there I see my enemy before me, and can fight him; but I do not like these armed appeals, for they are apt to twist a man’s sword from his hand and turn
